


It's Just Never as it Seems

by ProfessorDrarry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorDrarry/pseuds/ProfessorDrarry
Summary: Remember, in all things, there are parts that no one understands. There are moments that are not at all what they seem. Draco is hoping that is the case with the fire that has put Harry back in the hospital wing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A winding twisting OS that was orginally posted on Tumblr. HANG ON TIGHT this is a wild ride.

Draco turned the rudding mobile back on begrudgingly. He was going to skin Harry if he didn’t show up soon. It was just like him; disappear into the shops nearby, just because Draco had been all of ten minutes late. God forbid he just have to stand and wait a moment like a decent, human, patient boyfriend.

But right now, it was even more irritating. He was only here because of Harry’s insane need for him to see the shop before he signed the lease; it didn’t matter how many times he bothered to say ‘if you like it, I’ll like it. Take it before you lose it’.

As the stupid phone booted up, he was glancing up and down the road, looking for his curly-haired mess, with his lopsided gate and his mismatched socks.

Draco could dress Harry all he wanted, given that the man didn’t give a shit what he wore. That had been the simplest of changes, really. Put only clothes that were soft and went well together into his closet, and Harry would grab the first thing he laid hands on. Unfortunately, there remained the socks. The socks were where Harry insisted on being contrary. Since Draco secretly liked it, he only grumbled a little and never bothered to pair them after they did laundry.

Not seeing Harry in the street, he glanced down with growing anger and frustration as the technology in his hands decided to cooperate. The mobile turned on, and all at once it started buzzing. And dinging. Buzzing and beeping and dinging endlessly.

Four times, six.

Ten.

Fourteen.

Fourteen missed calls.

All from one person.

The phone picked up one ring in, and a harassed voice cleared its throat as it tried to speak.

“Bout bloody time,” it said gruffly. “What’s the frigging point of a mobile if you keep it off.”

“Weasley, where is he,” Draco rushed, ignoring the comment.

“Malfoy, just… He’s fine, he just—”

“Where. Is. He.”

“St. Elizabeth’s,” Weasley answered with a sigh.

“Muggle?” Draco exhaled. “Why?”

“Well, I guess that’s where Muggle fire people take the injured when they put out Muggle fires.”

“Fire,” Draco had taken off running the second he heard the name of the hospital up the road from their flat. “Fire!?”

“Draco, whatever you’re — listen, stop running. He’s fine. He just—”

“He tried to put it out, didn’t he?” Draco hissed. “With his wand.”

“He… yeah…” Weasley sighed.

“He forgot again,” Draco grunted, stopping at a light, waiting for the signal. “He forgot he can’t.”

“It’s only been three months since the accident. He’s allowed to forget. Draco, stop running,” Weasley repeated. “Apparate. Get him to Mungo’s. I’m already at your flat. It’s… It’s not great, mate.”

“Doesn't matter,” Draco grumbled again, leaning on the light post as his stomach lurched. He only just made it to a bin in time before a dizzy spell took over his head and he threw up. Weasley, unfortunately for him, was still on the line, listening patiently.

“D'you want me to send someone to pick you up,” he said when the line went quiet.

Draco hesitated just a moment before standing himself upright and whispering into the phone, “Yeah.”

“Shit. Yeah. Okay. Okay,” Weasley replied, shocked. “Two minutes. I’m sending Anders. You hate him, I know, but he’s right here.”

“Okay,” Draco said slowly, closing his eyes. “Stay on with me a minute?”

Weasley inhaled sharply and Draco heard him sit down heavily. “Yes,” he replied. “Yes of course.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ron surveyed the scene of the flat with utter dismay. His worst fears upon receiving the call had been confirmed, and there wasn’t much he could do until the Muggle enforcement all around him cleared out. He crossed his arms over his shirt and tie, both stiff from disuse since he usually just wore a t-shirt beneath his robes. He sighed heavily. This was going to be impossible to clean up.

“I know what you’re thinking,” a heavy set older gentleman agreed with him, sidling up to him and crossing his arms as well. “It’s the strangest thing I’ve seen in twenty years. But all my people are in agreement—when they arrived, the place was billowing in smoke. The bloke they found inside was nearly unconscious from inhalation. Took him straight out, they did.”

He paused for breath, gesturing all around him. “They say it took hours to put out the flames but…well. I dunno how I’m going to explain this, to be honest with you.”

“You won’t have to, don’t worry,” Ron sighed, shaking his head.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to explain this one, but he knew the Muggle would not have the same responsibility. People were on the way to modify memories even as they spoke.

He surveyed the completely undamaged walls and entirely organised flat with a growing sense of foreboding. Unless you counted the fifteen or so official looking fire department people milling around, you’d never have guessed there’d supposedly been a fire here two hours ago.

Nothing was even damp.

“What do you mean I won’t? Course I will. I’m the Marshall for this area,” the man said haughtily, surveying Ron with growing distrust. “Sorry, but who  _are_  you again?”

Ron dropped his arms, drew himself to his full, impressive height, and flipped out his small notebook, pulling a pen from behind his ears. “Special investigations unit,” he replied confidently. “And your name? For my notes?”

The man grumbled something unintelligible and dropped it. Ron’s mobile suddenly went off in his pocket, the infernal cheery melody which he hated endlessly but didn’t know how to change. It brightly ripped through the sombre scene and he felt the tips of his ears to red as he pulled it out.

“Er, sorry,” he murmured to the Muggle. “The wife.”

The man nodded with a sympathetic smile and wandered away.

“They’ve just arrived,” Hermione said without greeting. “He’s still unconscious… And Draco looks rather peaky.”

“Yes, well,” Ron said scathingly. “Suppose he’s seeing his job flash before his eyes, isn’t he.”

“Ron,” Hermione chastised. “Don’t be uncharitable. Not right now.”

“Well it’s true isn’t it,” Ron exploded. “What was he thinking, leaving him alone in the flat like that. The whole point of this was that—”

“Yes, thank you, Ronald,” Hermione interrupted. “I’m relatively sure we are all thinking the same thing. I just don’t see what good it does.”

“Hermione,” he said, his voice dropping to a quiet rumble ad the lump in his throat resurfaced. “You…you don’t even know. It looks so… there’s nothing even off the shelves…”

“I know, darling,” she soothed. “I know.”

-OoO-

It was several hours before Harry awoke. When he did, his head pounded so viciously that he immediately shut his eyes again.

“Lo?” he said hoarsely.

“Oh, thank fuck,” a familiar voice replied. “They kept trying to convince me you’d live, then you didn’t wake up.”

“’M fine, Draco,” he insisted.

Draco huffed. “You should really see yourself before you attempt to convince anyone of that,” he replied.

Harry forced himself to open his eyes, finding Draco draped unflatteringly in an armchair to his right, torso drooping low, his long legs extended in front of him. He was even paler than usual and his eyes were sunken and tired.

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“Not really sure,” Draco admitted, sitting himself up. “No one seems to be able to tell me anything.”

Harry made a sound of derision and muttered ‘typical’ before closing his eyes again.

“Quite,” Draco agreed. “You remember anything? Only, I seem to recall a promise from you that we’d stop ending up here.”

“Sure, I  _remember_  deciding I wanted toast. Be sure to put that in your official report,” Harry growled.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Draco sighed.

“Why not?” Harry demanded. “That’s why you’re worried, after all. Afraid you’ll be sacked. Don’t worry, I’ll make it clear that it’s only me, the incorrigible git, to blame.”

“Honestly, Harry Potter,” Draco grumbled. “Only you could be unconscious for seven hours and then resume a fight right where it left off.”

“We aren’t fighting,” Harry insisted, opening his eyes just to painfully glare at Draco. “You have to care about someone or something to have a fight about it.”

“I never said I didn’t  _care_ ,” Draco grumbled. “I just said you were getting a little too comfortable.”

“Oh gee, sorry. Didn’t mean to be  _comfortable_  in my own home,” Harry growled.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Draco retorted, standing suddenly. “Get some rest, Potter. We can discuss this when you get out of here. I’m going to call Ron again.”

“Don’t walk away from me,” Harry said hoarsely. “I’m your client.”

“My  _client_ ,” Draco repeated. “Not my keeper.”

He strode away and Harry shut his eyes again, squeezing them shut, though the action caused a wave of nausea and a splitting pain in his back and head.


	3. Chapter 3

“So you mean to tell me that it’s still happening,” Draco deadpanned. He was exhausted, and very little emotion could reasonably filter through at this point.

“Yes,” Ron sighed. “I’m sorry, Draco. I know you had been getting closer to…”

“Having my life back? Yes, well.” Draco hesitated. “We had a fight. It’s why I left. I was going to tell him. He’s just gotten so… clingy.”

“Well!” Ron exclaimed nervously, trying to read Draco’s face. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? He’s…he’s…”

“Sure. So was it the illusions again?”

“Far as I can figure. We did find toast in the toaster, so that part was real. But I imagine he picked up his wand absent-mindedly, to stop the toaster or whatever, and it triggered the illusion. It was strong enough that the Muggles saw it. They saw him as passed out, but we know now it was just the magic exhaustion.”

“Weasley, I swear to you, if you don’t find that bastard soon, I will…” Draco paused. “Okay fine, that’s an empty threat. I have no recourse.”

“I really didn’t anticipate it taking this long, Draco. I’m really—”

“No. No, don’t apologise. Just find him,” Draco interrupted harshly.

“I will,” Ron promised, pulling his head from the fire and disappearing.

Draco sighed again and rubbed his eyes. He really needed to get some sleep. He brushed off the knees of his jeans and headed to the guest room.

“What’s happened?” Harry said as he laid down. Draco rolled so he could see Harry’s silhouette in the doorway.

He sat up in bed and scooted back against the headboard. He might as well get this over with

“Harry, come to sit,” he said gently.

Hesitantly, Harry obliged. He sat gingerly on the edge of the bed for a moment but Draco waited him out. Sure enough, less than a minute later, he’d swung his legs up and settled comfortably with his arms slung across his bent legs.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you what happened. They don’t want me to, but I think they’re wrong. And even if they aren’t, this isn’t working either.”

“Okay,” Harry replied warily.

“Can you tell me what you remember? About… about the accident?”

Harry jolted, his head jerking up in shock.

“The accident?” he repeated. Draco nodded. “Um, well, not much? You know that.”

Draco nodded slowly. “But the things you do remember?”

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. “It was a Tuesday. I was on my way home. I went to the owl emporium because I was out of pellets. And when I was leaving, someone hexed me.”

“Harry,” Draco said patiently. “Harry, you know who hexed you.”

“No I didn’t see them,” Harry argued quickly.

“You did,” Draco insisted. Harry looked at his knees.

“Your father,” he mumbled finally.

“Yes,” Draco growled. “He cast a powerful hex. Every time you use magic, you conjure very realistic illusions of yourself in danger. They are so real you often…you usually…”

“I pass out.” Harry looked at Draco, imploring him with his eyes to explain, and to continue. “That’s what happened? There was no fire.”

Draco shook his head. “The hex had some side effects.”

“Yes,” Harry said matter of factly. “That’s why Ron hired you. To come and stay and keep an eye on the illusions.”

“Yes, and what is it that I do?” Draco prompted.

“You’re a curse breaker,” Harry said simply.

“For who?” Draco pushed. Harry just looked at him blankly and shrugged. Draco shook his head.

“Okay, here’s what actually happened, Harry. From the beginning. I’m going to tell you because they are wrong. If you know, you’ll get better. You will.”

“I mean, okay,” Harry muttered, clearly unconvinced. Draco couldn’t blame him, really. The plan seemed ridiculous even to him.

“Harry, I’m a curse breaker for you. For your company. You collect rare artefacts. You’re opening a shop, right?”

“Thank you for telling me about my job, Malfoy,” Harry replied scathingly.

“Yes well, that’s what I mean, idiot. That’s what I was doing before all of this. That’s why my father hexed you.”

“Because you worked for me?”

“That,” Draco said slowly, “and the fact that we’re married.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed deeply, and he leaned back. He didn’t, however, jump or yell. He didn’t seem that surprised. These memories, they were very close to the surface. Draco wanted to leap and dance for joy, but he patiently waited out Harry’s reaction instead.

“W-what-” he asked eventually.

“We’re married. Only for a few weeks, but yes. We eloped. We only told Ron and Hermione,” Draco shrugged. “We’d been quietly dating for two years. You asked. I said yes. You remember dating me. It’s why you’re so comfortable all the time. It’s why this was hurting so much.”

“I…” Harry frowned and studied his knees again. “I thought they were dreams.”

“Memories, I’m afraid. We can…well, I mean we can annul if you want. I don’t know what to do. I haven’t the whole time.”

“Your father,” Harry said, puzzled. “I remember him on the street. He said ‘don’t you dare try to get him back’, before he sent the spell. He found out.”

Draco nodded. “Ron’s trying to find him. We think there’s a counter hex that I don’t know. We’re going to get it out of him.”

Harry nodded and remained silent for many minutes.

——— OoO ———

In the film of his life, Draco would put the next seven hours and twelve minutes into a cutscene. Harry, mumbling that he needed space to think, left him in the spare room shortly before midnight. Draco fell immediately asleep.

The next morning, he found Harry in the living room, asleep on the floor, a fan of photos spread all around him. He had always been a seeker, Draco supposed, and he hadn’t hidden the photos that carefully.

He went to wake Harry, but exactly as he stooped down, the doorbell rang, and Draco went over to the door, buzzed Ron up. When he arrived at the door, he was not alone.

Two Aurors stood behind him, holding his father, who was filthy and shrunken, wearing torn robes and a foul expression.

“Found him,” Ron snarled unnecessarily. “Got the counter curse out of him with some truth serum, but he says he has to do it.”

“What?” Draco whispered in horror. They were sunk.

Lucius, standing behind Ron, attempted a sneer. And the sadness of the facial expression was enough for Draco. He growled under his breath but set his frayed emotions aside.

“Bring him in,” he said calmly.

Harry was awake now; he stood in the mess he’d made with his wand held up defensively. Draco tried to suppress his fear. Who knew what illusion Harry would create in this moment if things got dangerous? Draco inhaled deeply and pointed.

“Father,” he said, voice high and nasal, as he had been taught to speak all those years ago. “Do you see this man? He is an  _excellent_  wizard. He always has been. This is not going to change that, not forever. He’ll learn to work through this.”

Harry tilted his head as though trying to work out Draco’s plan.

“He also gave me a chance when no one else would. He gave me work when you refused me my inheritance for my 'failures’ against… Against Voldemort. He gave me a chance to start over.”

Draco lowered his voice, stepped closer to his father.

“Also, I fell in love with him,” he confided. “It was painful. And complicated. But please know this; if you force me to, I  _will_  find a way to make him fall in love with me again. You still won’t win.”

He looked from Harry to Ron, both of whom were frozen in place, wands drawn. He gave a short, humourless laugh.

“I used to be so naïve,” he said, shaking his head. “I idolised you. And you know what? That’s changed. It’s true. But you know what hasn’t?”

He paused for a moment, inhaling for strength, and faced his father full on.

“I love you,” he finished simply, with a shrug. “I always will.”

He turned and gently took Harry’s wand from his hand. He dragged him out into the entryway.

“Father, this is Harry Potter. He’s my husband. Can you please give him back the full use of his magic?”

For several seconds, it seemed that no one, not even Lucius, dared to breathe.

“ _Redirem_ ,” Lucius finally whispered. “He has to hold his wand to his temple and say ’ _redirem_ ’. Return reality. Simple really. Would’ve thought any curse breaker worth his paycheck could have figured it out. Excuse me, but I have an appointment at Azkaban.”

He strode without another word towards the door, where the Auror’s gripped his arms again and disapparated. Draco whirled around to tell Harry not to try the incantation, but, quite unsurprisingly, he found Harry already murmuring at his own temple. His wand clattered to the floor, Harry looked startled at the sound and Draco rushed over.

“What’s Ron doing here?” Harry said sleepily.

“Um…” Draco began.

“We told Draco’s father about you two,” Ron concluded for him.

“Oh really? How’d that go then?” Harry said, a tone of dreamy indifference in his voice.

He’s going to Azkaban,“ Ron shrugged. Harry smiled serenely and giggled.

"Draco, darling. Can you help me to bed? I seem to be quite drunk,”

Draco just laughed, nodded, and kissed Harry firmly.

——— OoO ———

So you see, there never  _was_  a fire. There had not been a fire because Harry still loved Draco, in all their glorious improbability, even if he could not remember. Harry still knew he loved Draco because Draco knew that this was not permanent. Draco knew it was not permanent, because against all odds — and despite ample evidence against this complicated truth — Draco still loved his father, and his father was still human.

There were months of confusing stories to explain to Harry after this day. Many parts were confusing just because they made no sense to anyone, really. But once those months were over, they went back to just living. Not happily ever after, but happy for a long damned time. Mostly because, as they say, nothing is ever as it seems.

Life just isn’t that simple.

—end—

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for coming on this bizarre journey with me… Even I had no idea where it was going. Come hang out with me on Tumblr :) professordrarry there too!


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